Authors Note: As usual CS Lewis Estate owns Narnia. JealousOfTheMoon owns herself and I own everything else.

Quite a short chapter (I wrote it in about an hour last night) but very important to the storyline.

Enjoy

Meeting the Authoress

Diary of a Relatively Sane Author

So things weren't going well for Moon and I. In fact, "things weren't going well" is a bit of an understatement. To put it plainly and succinctly, things were going very badly indeed.

You see, despite being Sue destroyers of many years standing with thousands of successful missions under our belt, it appeared we did have one fatal flaw. We didn't like to think ill of a Narnian citizen. So it was that a particularly sneaky dryad was able to pull us into a trap. Now Moon and I were hurtling down a space/time vortex on our way to meet the mysterious Authoress. And we didn't even get an in-flight packet of peanuts.

Any of you want to switch places?

Didn't think so.

"Looks like there's a time dilation effect within this vortex," I said as we hurtled head first through it. "It seems to be—"

"Not the time, Spaceman," Moon replied, a very grumpy look on her face. "I am prone to motion sickness, and you rattling on about vortexes and genetic matrices is not at all calming."

"Sorry," I muttered, "Just thought it would lighten the mood. Besides it actually helps—though not with the motion sickness."

"How so?"

"Gives us time to plan how we're going to get out of here."

"I don't think we're going to, Stew," Moon replied. Suddenly her face broke into a smile. "But, you know—that might not be such a bad thing."

"Why?"

"Remember what you said two chapters back?" Moon asked. When I shook my head, she sighed and waved her hand. Immediately we experienced a flashback (which is kinda like time travel except you can't affect anything and everything is in black and white).

"I know that," I replied, "but the point is: how were they able to do all that? A Sue is only as powerful as the 'author' makes them. It would take a very smart author to contrive and enforce a plot as radically different from canon as this."

"But 'Sue authors aren't smart—" A look of realisation crept over Moon's face. "Hey! If they aren't smart, then—?"

"Exactly," I said, smiling, "They have the brain capacity of a gnat, which explains the bad spelling and the constant misuse of grammar but leaves the question: where did these two Sues find an author smart enough to get a story to this conclusion without some like you, or I, or Lady of Stormness Mountain finding it and shutting it down?"

Moon's face turned serious as she pondered this. "We'll ask them," she said. "Right before we tear their heads off.

"Oh, that," I muttered. For a moment, I mourned the poor quality of the flashback – it was rather grainy and pixelated. Then my brain caught up. "You mean…?"

Moon nodded (or tried too. Hard to nod when your hurtling head first through a vortex. What she wound up managing was an awkward sort of jerk that resembled a demented chicken's assent. I did not remark on this, however.) "Clearly this Authoress is the real power behind these Sues. Stop her—"

"And we can stop them and go home," I finished. "Brilliant."

Unfortunately it wasn't as easy as it seemed…

A few minutes (or it might have been a few hours) later we landed with a bump in what appeared to be a bedroom. It was entirely pink. The lampshades, the bedspreads the walls…everything was pink. Even the laptop on the desk was pink. (And by 'pink' I mean not a nice pink, but a horrible, nauseating, sear-your-eyes pink.)

"Who decorated this place," I muttered "Paris Hilton?" Moon groaned from behind me and I span round to find her holding a book at arm's length. It was covered in pink paper and had something scrawled across the front in an abominable hand.

"What is it?" I asked.

"The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe," she muttered, flicking through it gingerly. She seemed to be trying to touch each page as little as possible. I could not blame her. "But she's made her own…..additions."

I took it from her and sitting on the (very) edge of the bed I flicked through it. Through out the whole book she had removed Susan's name and added her own. And at the end she had stuck a hand written extra chapter in which she and Peter were married, "That's," I began, "that's…" I stopped speechless.

Wordlessly, Moon took the book from me and hurled it out the window. It took a few frilly curtains with it. "Well, at least we know what we're up against," she muttered.

"What?"

"The worst kind of Suethor: a blatantly delusional one."

"Aren't they all?" I wondered.

Before she could say anything more, there was a cough from behind us and turning we saw a tall blonde of about fifteen with a smug look of superiority on her face. She snorted disdainfully. "You'll be those Cannon Freaks who've been giving my charries trouble."

Moon nodded, "And you would be Melissa? Or is it Jenna?"

"Melissa," the girl replied, "But you can call me the Authoress." Then she began to laugh. But it wasn't the sort of laugh you would expect from a fifteen year old blonde. Oh no. It sent shivers down my spine. It was a sort of evil guffaw combined with nails down a chalkboard.

"Well," I said when she had finished. "If you know who we are, you must know what we have to do." I made to reach for the pink lamp but found I couldn't move.

"Oh no," the Authoress said, "You're in my realm now. I hold all the Aces."

"Joy," Moon muttered, "An intelligent Suethor. Just what we need."

"Of course I'm intelligent," the Authoress shot back, "You don't think I'd have been able to concoct this sort of plan if I was stupid."

"We assumed you'd just got lucky," I replied. The minute the words left my mouth I knew it had been a mistake. The Authoress face turned dark and if looks could kill both Moon and I would have been in serious trouble.

"Shut up," she hissed before flicking her hand. Instantly the world got really dark again.

When I came round, I sighed, "Is it a bad thing I'm getting used to this?" I asked no-one in particular.

"Probably," Moon said groggily, "But at least it proves we're on the right track."

"Not helping," I muttered. "Where are we anyway?"

"Beats me," Moon replied. "I just hope it's not another dungeon."

"You're in my den," came the voice of the Authoress as the lights flicked on.

I whistled, "Some den." The room was massive. About half the size of a football pitch, banks of monitors covered every wall and there were several laptops and discarded note books littering the tables

"Very nice," Moon said.

The Authoress smiled coldly, "Amazing what you can do with access to extra dimensional space." She collapsed into a chair and began tapping the table. "Now …what to do with the pair of you…"

"Excuse me," I said, "I think you'll find there's a program for this."

"A program?" the Authoress asked. As intelligent as she was, even she had never heard of The Program. I was astounded.

Moon nodded, "First, you have to capture us. Which you've done, in case you haven't noticed."

"Then you gloat over us," I continued, "Which you've also done already, but not enough to carry onto the next stage."

"The next stage is where, after a sufficient amount of gloating, you reveal your plan in minute detail. Then you put us in a death trap or otherwise send us to fate worse than death." Moon explained.

"But we escape at the last minute and foil your plan completely, before proceeding onto the victory party held at the British embassy."

Moon rolled her eyes. "I don't think the last bit is necessary."

"Which bit," I asked, "The escaping and foiling or the party?"

"Of course the escaping and foiling is necessary. I meant the party."

This alarmed me to no end. "But I like the party!" I protested. "They have sausages on sticks."

"If we survive this, we'll think about the party, okay?" Moon soothed patronizingly.

"Okay," I said sullenly.

"Have the pair of you finished yet?" the Authoress demanded.

"Just," I said, bouncing out of my sullen mood suddenly. "So now do you understand?"

"Do I have to follow this program?" she asked.

"Oh yes," I said, "It's a vital part of the whole system."

"You know what," the Authoress said standing up, "I think I'm going to skip the first part and move on to the 'fate worse than death' part."

"You can't do that," Moon objected, "There's a system."

The Authoress rolled her eyes. "I'm the bad guy, remember? I don't have to stick to systems. I make my own rules."

"So you're going to condemn us to a fate worse than death," I said.

She nodded, "A particularly nasty one."

"Care to tell us what it is?" Moon asked, "Just so we can get prepared." And foil you, I thought.

"I'm going to cast you into another fandom for the rest of eternity," the Authoress replied, "I'm thinking…Twilight."

Moon and I both gasped. "You wouldn't do that." We burst simultaneously.

She shrugged, "Why not? I think it would be the perfect place for you to see me take over your beloved fandoms… one by one." She laughed, "Oh yes, Narnia is just the start, and there will be nothing you can do about it."

Moon and I looked at each other with no small amount of alarm. "You can't do that. We won't let you." Moon said furiously.

"Oh I will and as I said. There will be nothing you can do. But before you go, there is one last thing." She snapped her fingers and a group of blondes trooped out of a side door carrying various items of the make up and spa kind.

"What are you planning to do?" There was a quaver in Moon's voice, and I thought both she and I already knew the answer before the Suethor responded.

"Give you a make over, of course," she said before laughing again. "Goodness knows you both need one."

So there you have it, boys and girls. Moon and I are about to be sent into an eternity in another fandom—and what a fandom!—but not before being given the make over of a lifetime. And this time…there's no way out.

Anyone want to swap places now?

…Anyone?

Please Review. It helps me improve